The Blood of Olympus (The Heroes of Olympus, #5)(81)

A few days ago, Piper mentioned seeing the cave on Pylos where Hermes hid those cows. That must’ve triggered Leo’s subconscious. Without even meaning to, he’d built a musical instrument, which kind of surprised him, since he knew nothing about music.

‘Um, well,’ Leo said, ‘this is quite simply the most amazing instrument ever!’

‘How does it work?’ asked the god.

Good question, Leo thought.

He turned the crank handles, hoping the thing wouldn’t explode in his face. A few clear tones rang out – metallic yet warm. Leo manipulated the levers and gears. He recognized the song that sprang forth – the same wistful melody Calypso sang for him on Ogygia about homesickness and longing. But, through the strings of the brass cone, the tune sounded even sadder, like a machine with a broken heart – the way Festus might sound if he could sing.

Leo forgot Apollo was there. He played the song all the way through. When he was done, his eyes stung. He could almost smell the fresh-baked bread from Calypso’s kitchen. He could taste the only kiss she’d ever given him.

Apollo stared in awe at the instrument. ‘I must have it. What is it called? What do you want for it?’

Leo had a sudden instinct to hide the instrument and keep it for himself. But he swallowed his melancholy. He had a task to complete.

Calypso … Calypso needed him to succeed.

‘This is the Valdezinator, of course!’ He puffed out his chest. ‘It works by, um, translating your feelings into music as you manipulate the gears. It’s really meant for me, a child of Hephaestus, to use, though. I don’t know if you could –’

‘I am the god of music!’ Apollo cried. ‘I can certainly master the Valdezinator. I must! It is my duty!’

‘So let’s wheel and deal, Music Man,’ Leo said. ‘I give you this; you give me the physician’s cure.’

‘Oh …’ Apollo bit his godly lip. ‘Well, I don’t actually have the physician’s cure.’

‘I thought you were the god of medicine.’

‘Yes, but I’m the god of many things! Poetry, music, the Delphic Oracle –’ He broke into a sob and covered his mouth with his fist. ‘Sorry. I’m fine, I’m fine. As I was saying, I have many spheres of influence. Then, of course, I have the whole “sun god” gig, which I inherited from Helios. The point is, I’m rather like a general practitioner. For the physician’s cure, you would need to see a specialist – the only one who has ever successfully cured death: my son Asclepius, the god of healers.’

Leo’s heart sank into his socks. The last thing they needed was another quest to find another god who would probably demand his own commemorative T-shirt or Valdezinator.

‘That’s a shame, Apollo. I was hoping we could make a deal.’ Leo turned the levers on his Valdezinator, coaxing out an even sadder tune.

‘Stop!’ Apollo wailed. ‘It’s too beautiful! I’ll give you directions to Asclepius. He’s really very close!’

‘How do we know he’ll help us? We’ve only got two days until Gaia wakes.’

‘He’ll help!’ Apollo promised. ‘My son is very helpful. Just plead with him in my name. You’ll find him at his old temple in Epidaurus.’

‘What’s the catch?’

‘Ah … well, nothing. Except, of course, he’s guarded.’

‘Guarded by what?’

‘I don’t know!’ Apollo spread his hands helplessly. ‘I only know Zeus is keeping Asclepius under guard so he doesn’t go running around the world resurrecting people. The first time Asclepius raised the dead … well, he caused quite an uproar. It’s a long story. But I’m sure you can convince him to help.’

‘This isn’t sounding like much of a deal,’ Leo said. ‘What about the last ingredient – the curse of Delos. What is it?’

Apollo eyed the Valdezinator greedily. Leo worried the god might just take it, and how could Leo stop him? Blasting the sun god with fire probably wouldn’t do much good.

‘I can give the last ingredient to you,’ Apollo said. ‘Then you’ll have everything you need for Asclepius to brew the potion.’

Leo played another verse. ‘I dunno. Trading this beautiful Valdezinator for some Delos curse –’

‘It’s not actually a curse! Look …’ Apollo sprinted to the nearest patch of wildflowers and picked a yellow one from a crack between the stones. ‘This is the curse of Delos.’

Leo stared at it. ‘A cursed daisy?’

Apollo sighed in exasperation. ‘That’s just a nickname. When my mother, Leto, was ready to give birth to Artemis and me, Hera was angry, because Zeus had cheated on her again. So she went around to every single landmass on earth. She made the nature spirits in each place promise to turn my mother away so she couldn’t give birth anywhere.’

‘Sounds like something Hera would do.’

‘I know, right? Anyway, Hera exacted promises from every land that was rooted on the earth – but not from Delos, because back then Delos was a floating island. The nature spirits of Delos welcomed my mother. She gave birth to my sister and me, and the island was so happy to be our new sacred home it covered itself in these little yellow flowers. The flowers are a blessing, because we’re awesome. But they also symbolize a curse, because once we were born Delos got rooted in place and wasn’t able to drift around the sea any more. That’s why yellow daisies are called the curse of Delos.’